


The New Kid

by FishEyenoMiko



Series: Baker-Street [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Magical Realism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-02-06
Packaged: 2017-11-28 09:53:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/673082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FishEyenoMiko/pseuds/FishEyenoMiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sixth form student John Watson finds himself entranced with an arrogant, aloof new student named Sherlock Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The New Kid

John got off the bus and headed toward the school building. It was his second year at Baker-Street Academy, a well-renowned private school he only was able to attend thanks to getting a scholarship. Still, he was an easy-going, friendly young man, and many in the school liked him regardless of his economic status. Of course it helped that his mum had gotten him new trousers for this eighteenth birthday; they actually looked at nice as some the rich boys were wearing. 

"Hey, Johnny!"

John turned to see Mike Stamford running up to him.

"Hey! Long time no see!"

Mike laughed. "My family went to France over the summer."

"Oh, I'm so sorry..."

Both boys laughed.

"Planning to play rugby this year?" Mike asked as they headed down the hall to their classroom.

"You know it. You?"

"Hey, Johnny!" shouted a girl down the hall, waving.

"Hey, Sarah!" he waved back.

Mike laughed, then said, "Eh... I think I need to focus on my studies."

"Ah, come on Mike..."

They walked into, Maths, their first class of the day, in room 114.

"Hey, John," said Greg, who had already found a spot next to Sally. 

"Greg," he said, smiling and sitting in the seat in front of him. Mike sat next him, in front of Sally. 

"Who thought to have Maths first lesson?" Sally asked. "This is way too early for Maths..."

"No kidding," Greg agreed.

Suddenly, Mary appeared out of thin air in the room before them. She looked around confused, then gritted her teeth. 

"God damn you, Frank!" 

With that, she left the room.

Greg turned to Sally. "Remind me never to date Frank... I hate that teleporting shit."

"You're not really his type," Sally pointed out.

"Yeah, he likes blondes," John pointed out. Everyone looked at John, then started giggling.

"Not. Funny."

 

A few more people entered the class, some of whom John knew, and some he didn't. One of the last students to enter was a tall, dark-haired newcomer who immediately went and sat in the back row.

Finally, the teacher came into the class.

"Good morning, everyone. For those who are new, I'm Ms. Hunter. I hope you're ready for another year."

"Whee..." said one student.

"No..." another said quietly.

Ms. Hunter snickered. "Yes, well, we might as well get started."

Most of the class groaned as they got out their books. John was too intent with watching the boy in the back, and Greg had to smack his arm to get his mind on his schoolwork.

 

Lunchtime came around and John and his friends went to the dining hall. John tended to bring his lunch, so he looked for a table while his friends stood in line to get their food. He found a large table and set his food down. Looking over, he saw the dark-haired boy from the back of the class sitting alone at a two-person table.

"Hey... uh... you there, with the apple?" 

"Sherlock."

"Pardon?"

The boy rolled his eyes. "My name is Sherlock Holmes. What do you want?"

"I'm John Watson. Do you want to sit with us?" John offered, smiling. "There should be room for one more."

Sherlock looked at John, and then at the others, who were now headed to the table. 

"No," he said, and went back to his own food.

"Okay," said John. He wasn't about to try to push the boy to do something he didn't want to. Still, as he watched the boy eat his meagre lunch (his first thought was that Sherlock was a scholarship student like himself, but that didn't seem quite right), John found himself wishing the boy had said yes.

 

After lunch was Chemistry, in room 221. John was naff at it, but he needed it if he was going to go into medicine. The class was full of two-chair desks with various chemicals, flasks, and other chemistry equipment. As the students started filing in, the teacher, who was already at her desk, got their attention.

"I'm Mrs. Hudson; welcome to Chemistry class. You're all going to work with partners, so don't just sit randomly; whoever you sit with today will be your partner for the year."

The teens began scrambling around, making sure they were sitting with their friends. Greg and Sally became a pair at once, and Mike managed to sit with a new boy that had been giving him the eye since Maths. Several students approached John wanting to be his partner, but he was heading to the back of the class, wanting to partner with the new boy, who was already sitting at a desk.

"Hey," said Julia Stoner, grabbing John's arm. "Wanna sit with me?"

"No, thanks," John said, gently pulling out of her grasp and taking a seat next to Sherlock. 

"Hi," said John.

The other boy just sighed and went back to examining the chemicals on the desk.

"Oh, it seems like we have an odd number of students," Mrs. Hudson noted.

"I don't need a partner," said Sherlock. Not bothering to look at John when he said it.

"Actually, Ms. Stoner, why don’t you sit with Mr. Watson and..."

"Sherlock Holmes," he said.

"And Mr. Holmes."

Julia sighed but dragged a chair over to the boys' desk.

"Now, we'll be working on the experiment in the first chapter." 

The sound of books opening filled the class. Sherlock opened his, looked at the experiment, and began to get the chemicals ready. John was surprised when he actually began opening them.

"I don’t think you're supposed to start yet," he said.

"Why not?" asked Sherlock. 

"The teacher has to tell us what to do."

"Why?"

"Excuse me, in the back?" said Ms, Hudson. "Care to share with the rest of the class?"

"No, ma'am," said John. "Sorry."

Ms. Hudson looked at Sherlock.

"Mr. Holmes, what are you doing?" 

"The experiment in chapter one...?" He actually sounded a little confused by the question.

"I need to explain it. If you mix the chemicals together wrong-"

"I won't." There was a note of conceit in his voice. John wasn't sure whether to be offended by his arrogance or impressed by his nerve.

"Mr. Holmes, I'm not sure how it was at your last school, but I would appreciate if you would do as you're told. You need to wait for me to explain what's going on to the rest of the class."

The boy sighed in exasperation. "I don't see why I should slow down just because no one else is as advanced as I am."

John noticed several students glaring at him as he said that. He seemed oblivious to this.

"Just wait until I'm done explaining it, Mr. Holmes."

After a moment, Sherlock set the chemicals aside and leaned back in his chair. With that, the class resumed as normal.

 

As they left the class, Sally glowered at Sherlock. 

"Stuck-up wanker," she said, loudly enough Sherlock could hear it. John wasn't sure whether the boy ignored her because he wasn't aware Sally was talking about him, or he just didn't care. 

"What an arse," Greg agreed. "Too stuck up to even talk to us?" he shouted, giving the two-fingered salute to the boy's back. 

John shook his head. Given the boy's tendency to sit by himself, and the fact that he was new, John suspected Sherlock was just the quiet type who had trouble making friends. John decided he might try to help him with that.

 

At lunch the next day, John walked up to Sherlock, who was sitting alone again.

"Come sit with us," he said in his most commanding tone.

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

Sherlock gave him a puzzled look. Then he actually smirked. He got up and followed John to the other table, where John's friends were already congregating.

"And why is he sitting here?" asked Sally.

"I asked him to," said John. "Come on, he's new to this school, I think we should give him a chance."

"We should give a chance to a guy who thinks he's better than us?"

"I didn't say I was better than you, I said I was more advanced than you. And I am. My brother had me doing university-level chemistry, so what's offered here is a bit below what I'm used to."

"Your brother?" Greg asked.

Sherlock shifted uncomfortably. John noticed this, and spoke up. 

"Hey, Greg, you wanna come and try out with me after class? The rugby team could use a big guy like you."

"Are you hitting on me?"

John smiled and wiggled his eyebrows. "Maybe a little..."

Sally groaned. "I don't know about you, but I'm already looking forward to the weekend..."

"That is pretty sad," said Julia.

"Easy for you say," Sally replied, "You've got that big brain of yours."

John noticed that Sherlock turned to examine Julia when Sally said this. "She just means she's smart, Sherlock."

"Brain size has no relation to intelligence," Sherlock said, causing everyone to look at him again. "What?"

Sally laughed. "It was just a joke, Sherlock."

Sherlock thought this over. "Oh... I see."

Sally made a face. "You're weird..."

Sherlock looked at John. "He was the one who wanted me to sit here. I'd be fine sitting alone, if you'd rather."

"No, it's okay, stay here," said Julia. "Sally just sometimes speaks before she thinks." 

Sally glared, but Julia ignored her.

"So, you like chemistry?" Julia asked Sherlock, smiling flirtatiously. 

John saw red--he hadn't anticipated anyone hitting on Sherlock. He wasn't certain if he wanted to do so himself, but he had been hoping he'd at least have a chance.

"Yes, I do enjoy it," Sherlock replied. "It requires care and precision, and its results are easily replicable."

"Yeah." Julia smiled slyly. "I bet you and I would have _great_ chemistry." She moved forward, putting a hand on his thigh. Sherlock gave a jerk, pulling away and looking stunned. Julia laughed. "You're jumpy!"

Sherlock didn’t seem to have a reply to that; he just scooted away from her and went back to his lunch.

 

Sherlock stayed quiet for the rest of lunch. However, John noticed that he was watching everyone closely, observing them like some sort of biologist studying animals in the wild. This thought made John laugh, but he just shook off Mike's question about it.

The others chatted; John and Mike about rugby, Greg and Sally made plans for the weekend, and Julia just sulked.

Sherlock finished his lunch and got up.

"Where are you going?" John asked.

"I'm done with lunch," he said.

"Why don't you stay and hang out with us?"

"No," he turned to leave. Then he turned back around. "Thanks." 

With that, he left the dining hall.

"Uh..." John turned to the others. "I'm gonna go check on him..."

"Why?" said Greg, "he seems to want to be alone."

"Yeah, but... look, just... I'll see you guys in class."

 

John found Sherlock out behind the dining hall. He was smoking a cigarette.

"You're not supposed to smoke on school grounds," John said.

Sherlock gave him a look. Then he took a drag and blew out smoke through his nose.

"Are you going to report me?"

"No," said John, as he came and stood next to him.

"Why didn't you stay and hang out?"

"I don't like 'hanging out'."

John just sighed.

 

They stood quietly for a few moments, Sherlock smoking, John just thinking.

"So," John said tentatively, "your brother taught you chemistry?"

Sherlock turned and gave him a thoughtful look. 

"For a few years after our parents died, my brother kept me home and taught me."

"I'm sorry."

Sherlock was quiet for a moment. 

"He finally decided to send me back to school for 'socialization'."

"It's working out well," John joked.

Sherlock shrugged. "It was his idea, not mine."

John nodded. "You could give it a shot, ya know."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. He dropped his now spent cigarette and crushed it under his shoe. "Dull."

"What is?"

"The whole thing. The people, the discussion... dull."

"You think my friends are dull?"

"Must I repeat myself? Yes, they are. They spend their time talking about sport and sex; could they be any more cliché?"

" _I_ play sports," John said defensively.

"And sex?" Sherlock drawled.

"Of course!" No sooner did the words come out of John's mouth than he regretted them. Sherlock didn't seem like the sort of person who would be impressed by John's bragging about sex. "I... uh, I mean..."

John was rather relieved when the bell rang. 

"Time for Chemistry," said John. "Don’t worry about Julia, she can take a hint; I'm sure she'll leave you alone." 

 

Chemistry was calmer than yesterday. Either Sherlock didn't want the attention, or he just felt it would be better to wait for the teacher to give out instructions, but he remained quiet throughout class.

 

The next day, John watched as Sherlock sat at a two-chair table to eat lunch. After a moment, he made a decision: He walked over and sat at with him.

Sherlock looked up at John. "You don’t want to sit with your friends?"

"Obviously," John said with a smile.

Sherlock regarded him for a moment, then smiled.

"How are you liking school so far?"

"Dull."

John laughed. "What don't you find 'dull'?"

"Puzzles, music, chemistry..."

John nodded. "I find chemistry... frustrating."

"So why are you taking it?"

"I'm going into medicine," John explained. "I'm going to be a doctor."

"I see."

"Not 'dull'?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "You're making fun of me."

John smiled. "A little."

"You don’t have to sit here."

"I... It's just a joke... mates do that, Sherlock; they joke with each other."

Sherlock seemed to consider this. "I see."

"What about you, what do you want to do?"

"As I said, I enjoy puzzles, and investigating mysteries... I’ve considered being a detective."

"Like with the police?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "God no. I'll be a... private detective, I suppose."

"Ah. Cool."

 

After lunch, they went outside. Sherlock smoked while John just relaxed against the wall.

"So," John said, "what do you do for fun, anyway?"

"Run experiments, work on puzzles..."

"Sport?"

"No."

John grinned. "Sex?"

"No."

"What do you mean, 'no'?"

"I don’t have sex for fun."

"Do you have sex... at all?"

"No."

"You're a virgin?"

Sherlock gave John a look John was starting to think of as his "How much of an idiot are you?" expression.

"Okay, okay...

"Still, you're only seventeen, so..."

"I'm eighteen."

"Oh?"

"Like I said, I was out of school for a few years."

"But why not just go straight to university?"

Sherlock shrugged. "My brother felt I needed a bit of secondary school, first.

"Huh... okay."

"Shall we go to Chemistry?" Sherlock asked. "I'm sure Mrs. Hudson is in class by now; perhaps we could get our equipment set up."

"Sounds good," said John, smiling.

 

John ate lunch with Sherlock nearly every day. It was the only time they had alone together, but John enjoyed it immensely. Despite their differences, they found many things to talk about. Sherlock had a surprising knowledge of anatomy and biology, subjects which were both interesting and useful to John. Sherlock's interests, and discussions, tended to be a bit morbid, and more than a few times, they finished eating quickly and John hustled them outside so they could talk about the unpleasant topics, and Sherlock could occasionally show him pictures of gruesome medical conditions and crime scenes.

 

The first weeks of school went by quickly for John. Already he was getting bogged down with projects and homework. Plus, with rugby and his general socializing, he was beginning to get overwhelmed. Biology, while fun, was difficult for him, especially since Mr. Doyle assigned them papers every week. Fortunately, Mike helped him with a few of them. Chemistry was another difficult subject for him, but Sherlock did most of their experiments in class, and Julia helped him during one of their free classes. With this help, John found himself getting a better grip on things.

 

As the weeks went by, John noticed that Sherlock, who was hardly the most amiable person anyway, was starting to draw away from him. He often cut their after-lunch talks short, and one week, he stopped eating with John altogether. When Julia didn’t show up for school that Friday, things finally came to a head. Sherlock was being particularly terse and unhelpful, essentially doing the experiment by himself, and made no attempt to give John any information. Finally, John was on his last nerve.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What do you mean?" asked Sherlock coldly.

"You're obviously upset at me for some reason."

"Ah, so you can be intelligent when you choose to be," Sherlock snarked as he measured out a dry chemical.

"And what is that-"

"Julia's been doing most of your work in here. And you have other students do papers for you."

"Now that's not fair," John countered. "I'm having a tough term, and... yeah, I've had a little help. But-"

Ms. Hudson walked up. "How are things going, gentlemen?"

"Just fine, ma'am," said John.

 

After school, John chased Sherlock down as he headed out of the building, pulling a cigarette out of its pack.

"Hey! Sherlock!" 

The boy turned, so John jogged up to him.

"Hey... look, what you said in Chemistry... like I said, I've been having a tough time, so, yes, I've had a _little_ help... but... I mean, Greg does it so much more. All he has to do is smile at any gal--and a few of the guys--and his papers get done for him."

"So you only aspire to be slightly better than Greg?" Sherlock replied.

"That's not what I meant. I'm just wondering why you're giving me shit for this, is all."

"Because you're smart, John; probably smarter than most of these... imbeciles here."

"What makes you say that?"

Sherlock gave him a confused look. "Isn't it obvious?" There was a pause. "You're a scholarship student."

"How..."

Sherlock pointed to John's uniform. "Your blazer has been washed many times, since your parents can’t afford more than one. Your trousers and shoes are relatively new, probably bought just before the school year started; your parents probably splurge on those--especially the trousers; probably justified it by making it a birthday present-since people notice them, but your shirt is older and cheap, but it's not as noticeable, so that's all right."

John blinked. Then he sighed. "Look... it's not like it's really a secret, but..."

"But you're afraid if you advertise your poverty too much, people will treat you differently." Sherlock nodded. "But that doesn't explain your laziness."

John was livid. "My--? Look, I have had a total of two--TWO--assignments that Mike has _helped_ me with, and Julia helps me with chemistry cuz it doesn't come easy to me. And you know, I'd love to get help from, oh, say my family, but you know what I have at home? Two parents who work their arses off to give their kids a comfortable life, and little sister who's got her own shit to deal with. Maybe you should think about while you've got your older, no doubt genius brother helping YOU with _your_ studies. Honestly, I can see why everyone at the school hates you, you arrogant-"

Suddenly everything went dark. John let out a cry and reached out, his hands smacking against a wall. He felt around until he found a light switch. Turning the light on, John noticed that he was in a cupboard. He opened the door and found himself in one of the hallways of the school. He began looking for the next exit. He decided chasing after Sherlock would be pointless, so he just walked to the bus to go home.

 

John walked up to Sherlock the next day. 

"Don't you _ever_ do that again, you arsehole."

"Fine," Sherlock replied, then turned back around and took his seat. John glared at the back of his head, but then sat down, as well.

John went to Chemistry to see that Julia was sitting at a different desk than Sherlock. 

"Hey," she said, waving John over. As he got closer, John noted that there was only one chair at Sherlock's desk. Sighing, he sat next to Julia.

 

Sherlock didn’t show up to school on Wednesday. John wondered if it was because of their fight, but then realised that was rather arrogant of him. Classes proceeded as usual, and no one--teachers and pupils alike-really seemed to think anything of it. Only John missed the strange tall boy.

 

When Sherlock didn’t show up to school on Thursday, John started to get worried. During a free period, he used one of the school’s computers to find Sherlock’s address and phone number. He wasn’t surprised to find that Sherlock lived in a rather posh neighbourhood. He considered just calling, but decided going over might be better.

After school, John called his house and left a message that he'd be late. His parents would be at work for awhile longer anyway, and Harry, John’s little sister, usually hung out with friends until well after dark.

The bus stopped about a half a mile from Sherlock’s house, so John was forced to go on foot the rest of the way. Finally, he found himself approaching two sets of gates. One was large enough for a car, while the other one was smaller, clearly meant just for foot traffic. John hoped he’d found the right place. He approached the small intercom on one side of the smaller set of gates and pressed the button.

"Uh... hello?"

"Please step back so I can see you," said a stern female voice. 

John did so, smiling nervously and giving the camera an awkward wave. No sooner had he done it then he wanted to smack himself for being such a knob.

"Who are you and what is your business here?"

"Uh... I’m John Watson-"

"You have to press the button."

"Oh!" He pressed the button. "Uh, sorry... I’m John Watson; I’m a school mate of Sherlock's... er, Sherlock Holmes. This is where he lives, right?"

There was a short but nerve-wracking pause. Then an older gentleman and a younger, very large man came up and opened the gate.

"Please come with us, Mr. Watson," the older man said.

John followed them through the gate. He stared in amazement at the mansion in front of him. He supposed it shouldn't have surprised him, given what he knew about the kids at Baker-Street, but still, seeing it in person was a bit of a shock.

They followed a path across the parkway and up to the front door. Entering the house, the pair led John into a large room. There was a young man standing near the window.

"Come in, Mr. Watson, and sit down."

John entered and sat in a large, ornate chair facing the man. He was portly and of average height, but his face was somewhat familiar to John. 

"Are you Sherlock's brother?"

The man smiled. "Mycroft Holmes. And you're John Watson, son of Mary and James Watson of West Croydon."

"Uh... yeah. How did you know that?"

Mycroft smiled again. "I make it my business to know as much as I can about the people my brother associates with. I could tell you a good deal more about yourself, but I'm sure you know most of it."

"Okay..." John was a little unsettled by this.

"What brings you here, John?"

"I came to check on Sherlock. He's been out of school for a few days, and... well, I'm worried about him. Is he okay?"

"You're concerned about him?"

"Well... yeah. You seem surprised."

"As you can imagine, Sherlock hasn't had many friends."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess not."

Mycroft was studying John; it was a bit like the way Sherlock occasionally looked at him. But while he actually rather liked it when Sherlock studied him, he felt uncomfortable being scrutinized by his older brother.

"Do you want to talk to him?"

"Yes," said John hesitantly. "But we had a fight... I'm not sure _he_ wants to talk to _me_."

"Ah, I see." Mycroft got up. "Wait here," he said, then exited.

A moment later, the door opened and a young woman came in. "Would you like something to drink?"

"No, thanks, I'm fine."

The woman nodded and left.

 

After about ten minutes, the door opened again, and Mycroft came in followed by the older gentleman who had brought John into the house.

"Stapleton here will take you to see Sherlock," said Mycroft.

"Oh... okay, thanks," said John, getting up and following Stapleton.

They took an elaborate, sweeping flight of stairs up to the second story. They turned to the left, and walked for a few feet, then turned to the right, and down a long hallway. Stapleton led him to the last door at the end of the hall and knocked.

"Mr. Watson is here to see you, sir."

"Come in," said Sherlock from the other side of the door. Stapleton opened the door and indicated John should go in.

John walked into the room. It appeared to be a small library. There were books on shelves and in stacks on the floor and taking up a few chairs, and there was a large desk with papers scattered over it. Sherlock himself was sitting on a bench in front of a bay window. He was in a pair of black leather trousers and a loose black shirt. His curly hair was unruly, which was unusual for him. John rather liked it, though; it made him look more relaxed. He was barefoot, his longs toes casually combing through the carpet. He had a cigarette in his hand, and the smoke was wafting out of one of the windows. 

"Mycroft told me you wanted to see me."

"Yeah," John replied. "I was worried about you. Are you all right?"

Sherlock looked puzzled. "Why are you worried about me?"

"You’ve haven't been at school for two days. I-"

"No, I mean, why do you care?"

John was surprised. "Well... cuz I like you."

"Oh... I thought you hated me."

"What? Why?"

"During our argument, you said you understood why everyone hated me. I thought that meant you hated me, as well."

"Oh! Oh, God... that's why you were so cold to me on Tuesday."

"Yes."

"I don't hate you, Sherlock. Yeah, I was pissed off, and... I'm sorry. I didn't know you'd take it so hard." John thought for a moment. "You're not used to arguing with someone who actually likes you, huh?"

"No, I guess not."

John nodded. "Well... I don’t hate you."

There was a short pause. Sherlock pulled his feet up to his chest.

"Do you want to sit down?" he indicated the empty space on the bench.

Smiling, John came over and sat down. He looked out the window and saw a large, well-tended lawn, some trees, and a flower garden.

"Nice!"

Sherlock shrugged. "I suppose."

"I guess you're used to it, huh?"

"I'm not much for flowers and trees..."

John looked around; the room was dark and somber, and the only real decoration was a print of da Vinci's _Vitruvian Man_.

"Yeah, I guess not."

They sat for a few moments. Sherlock smoked a bit more, and John looked around the room.

"So, why haven’t you been at school?"

Sherlock gave John his most penetrative look. Then, "My parents died on Oct 26th."

"Wednesday was the anniversary."

"Exactly."

"I'm sorry."

Sherlock looked at him, then shook his head. "It's fine.

"They were in a car accident. Father died at the scene, mother died in hospital."

"I... I don't-"

"You don’t have to say anything, John," said Sherlock, putting his cigarette out in an ashtray sitting next to him. Standing up, he took the ashtray and dumped it into a metal rubbish bin.

"I've missed you at school. Classes are dull without you around."

"That's not surprising; school is dull."

"It's... yeah," said John, laughing.

 

Sherlock smiled and sat back down next to John. 

"Honestly, John, it's not that I care whether you do your schoolwork well--or at all, frankly--I just don’t want you selling yourself short. And, you know, you would have plenty of time for your schoolwork if you didn’t spend so much time playing rugby and 'hanging out'."

John sighed. "Look, maybe that works for you, but most people like to try to have some fun in their lives... 'All work and no play' and all that. Don’t you have anything not-school related you like?"

Sherlock considered this. "I like music. And I play the violin."

"Well there ya go. Just like you like listening to and playing music, I like playing rugby. And, okay, in fairness I did let it get away from me for a few weeks, but I'm getting a better handle on things."

"Sport is really that important to you?"

"Yes," said John.

Sherlock thought this over, then nodded.

"I should be back at school tomorrow. I just..."

John shook his head. "It's okay. I'm just glad you're all right."

"I am. Thank you." Sherlock smiled; John loved it when he smiled; he was beautiful enough as it was, but when he smiled, Sherlock was absolutely stunning.

John leaned forward, kissing Sherlock passionately. The other boy gave a start but didn't pull back, so John pushed forward, deepening the kiss, pushing his tongue between Sherlock's lips. 

Suddenly, John found himself in a large bathroom. It took him a second to realise he'd been teleported there. He also realised he must still be in Sherlock's house. He left the bathroom and walked around a minute, but realised he had no clue where he was going or how to either get back to Sherlock's room or to leave the house.

"Hello?! Uh... I'm kinda lost here..."

"Mr. Watson?"

"AH!"

John turned to see the older man--Stapleton--standing at the end of the hallway.

"Uh... I got teleported, and now I'm lost."

"I see... I'll take you to-"

Mycroft appeared next to Stapleton. "It's all right, Stapleton, I'll take it from here."

Stapleton nodded and left. 

Mycroft turned to John. "Follow me."

 

They ended up back in the room John had waited in when he first arrived.

"Sit down, John."

"I was hoping-"

Mycroft give him a glare that would melt lead. "Sit. Down."

John took a seat.

"John, as I mentioned earlier, my brother has had very few friends in his life. The idea that one of the few he's had would betray that trust-"

"I didn't mean to-"

"I am NOT finished."

"Sorry."

"I'm not sure what you did, but if my brother teleported you, you must have really upset him. If you consider yourself a friend, I would advise you to not do it again."

"I won't, I promise."

"Good. I'll have the driver come round and drive you to the bus stop."

"I guess talking to Sherlock is out of the question?"

"It is. You'll see him at school soon enough; either tomorrow or Monday."

"Yeah, okay," said John.

 

John was nervous as he watched Sherlock walk into Maths the next day. The tall boy took his usual place in the back of the class. John debated going back and trying to talk to him, but realised that Sherlock would probably read this as an aggressive move. So he sat in his usual spot and just hoped he hadn't completely blown things.

 

Sherlock continued to avoid John during lunch and in Chemistry. After Chemistry, John had a free period, so he went to the library to study. As he searched for research material for his next biology paper, he noticed Sherlock sitting at a table reading. Taking a breath, he headed over and sat down.

"I'm sorry about yesterday. I misread some signals. It's just... well, I really like you. Obviously...

"Besides," John continued, "I know you like me, at least a little bit."

Sherlock looked up at him, puzzled.

John smiled. "When I visited, I waited in the room downstairs for several minutes. At first I thought it was just because you were reluctant to see me, or you and your brother were fighting or whatever... I've had enough rows with Harry to know how involved those can get.

"But then I came up to your room, and there you were, sitting in the window, pretty as a picture. You fixed your hair up; or 'unfixed' it, as it were; I smelled the hair gel when I was kissing you. And your clothes... I mean, c'mon, nobody wears leather trousers around the house, you put those on for me. And, hell, even the smoking... yes, it's a terribly bad habit, but I'm sure you've noticed the way I look at you when you do it. So, obviously, you like me enough to make yourself look nice for me." 

Sherlock was giving him a look of astonishment. John couldn't help feeling triumphant. He stood up.

"See you later," he said with a smile.

 

After school on Fridays, John and some of the other guys played a friendly game of rugby. Many of the players, including John, even brought older clothes and shoes specifically to play in. It was an unusually warm day, so John didn’t mind being one of the "skins" in a shirts-versus-skins game. Since they had been doing this since nearly the beginning of the year, they had even accumulated a small group of fans who came and watched in order to cheer them on, or just hang out and playfully heckle them.

After playing about fifteen minutes, John looked up at the stands and noticed a new face in the crowd. Said face was almost entirely hidden behind a book, but the curly black hair was unmistakable. The boy looked up, peeking over the top of his book. John smiled at him. Sherlock immediately ducked his head back down. John couldn’t help but laugh.

"Hey, John, c'mon!"

"Yeah, okay," said John, going back to the game with renewed energy and drive.

 

After the game, John went and showered, changing into a clean shirt and trousers and his regular trainers. Carrying his gym bag, he walked out to the stands, but wasn't surprised to find that Sherlock wasn't there. John suspected he'd gone home. After a moment's consideration, John called his house and left a message telling them he'd be home late again. 

 

John walked up to the intercom outside of the gates of Sherlock's home and pressed the button. 

"Hello, it's John Watson." 

He stepped back and stood so the camera could see him. There was a short pause, then:

"Someone will be out to collect you."

"Okay."

 

John waited in the large room again. This time, he had accepted the maid's offer of a drink, and was sipping lemonade when Mycroft entered the room.

"I take it you're here to see Sherlock?"

"Yeah. If he wants to see me," John replied. "I'm really hoping he does."

Mycroft looked him up and down; again John found the man's scrutiny uncomfortable. Then, surprisingly, he smiled.

"I'll go and see if he wants to see you."

 

John was led up to the same room he'd met Sherlock in last time he was at his house. This time, Sherlock was sitting at his desk writing.

"Uh-"

"In a minute..."

John set his bag down and sat down on an unused chair. He debated picking up a book, but decided to just sit and wait.

Sherlock finished writing and turned to John.

"What brings you here?"

"I came to see you."

"Obviously."

John sighed. "I thought we could start over. As friends."

"Is that what you _really_ want?"

John looked away guiltily.

"Why lie?"

"Because... I like being with you, Sherlock, and if that means... dealing with my feelings on my own, I'll do that."

Sherlock looked John up and down, then said, "You're right, I am... attracted to you. And I have to say, even though you came on a little strong, the kissing was... nice." He turned and looked at John. "In fact, I'd like to try it again."

"All right," said John, smiling. 

John reached out and put his hands on either side of Sherlock's face. The other boy gave a bit of a shudder--John suspected he wasn't used to being touched--but smiled, so John leaned in, gently touching his lips to Sherlock's. When he got an uncertain, tentative response, he deepened the kiss a bit more. He gently pushed his tongue forward, slipping it between Sherlock's soft, full lips. Sherlock turned his face away, and when he looked back, shyness flashed across his eyes. John smiled back, warmly.

They leaned towards each other, meeting in a slow, exploratory kiss. John felt Sherlock's lips part in anticipation. John slipped his tongue into the boy's warm, wet mouth. As he slid his tongue along Sherlock's teeth, the other boy grabbed one of John's sleeves. Soon, Sherlock's tongue was in John's mouth, and he was pushing forward, pressing John against the edge of one of the windows. John pushed back a little, enough so he wasn't quite so squashed.

"Sorry," Sherlock said breathlessly.

"It's okay," said John. "Just-" Sherlock swallowed whatever else he was going to say in a greedy kiss. 

 

"Maybe we should move...?" Sherlock said.

"Yeah, okay..."

They stood up. No sooner was John on his feet, though, than Sherlock was kissing him again. He ended up against the wall, with Sherlock kissing him and grabbing at his shirt.

"John," said Sherlock between desperate, hungry kisses, "I'm sorry, I..."

"No, this is good... oh, God..." 

John lifted his arms so Sherlock could pull his shirt off. Then John grabbed the bottom of Sherlock's shirt, and the taller boy leaned over so John could strip it off him. That done, Sherlock stepped back toward John, running his hands over John's bare chest and arms. John pulled Sherlock in for another kiss, his hands running over the miles and miles of Sherlock's beautiful pale skin.

Suddenly, impulsively, John reached down, picking Sherlock up. 

"Oh, God!" Sherlock quickly grabbed John's shoulders and wrapped his legs around John's waist to steady himself.

John couldn’t help but laugh, leaning up to kiss Sherlock, who arched down to meet his lips with his own.

"Sherlock..."

"Desk."

John carried Sherlock over to his desk. Sherlock reached down with one hand and pushed books and papers aside. John sat him on the desk and they resumed kissing, and began touching each other anywhere their hands could reach. As they did this, Sherlock's bare heels dug into the backs of John's thighs. John slid his hands down to Sherlock's hips, pulling the boy's body against his own. He decided they still weren't close enough. Reaching down, John began undoing his own trousers.

John then stepped back; he quickly took his trainers off, kicking them aside (one of them ended up behind a stack of books; John paid it no mind). Then he pushed his trousers down, pulling them and his pants off at the same time, stepping out of them. 

After he finished undressing, John looked at Sherlock and found, to his surprise, that he had managed to take his own clothes off while still on the desk. He was now sitting there naked, his long, pale legs hanging off the desk. Despite being naked in front of John for the first time, he didn't seem particularly self-conscious. John smiled and stepped forward. He gently caressed Sherlock's thighs, then put his hands on Sherlock's knees, spreading his legs and stepping between them. No sooner did John do this then Sherlock begin kissing him again.

"This is... sort of addictive," Sherlock observed. His hands moved down to John's arse, squeezing it.

John laughed. He could feel Sherlock's erection against his stomach, and intentionally rubbed against it, enjoying the little moan Sherlock made as he did this. He reached down, tilting Sherlock's pelvis into a better position to enter him. Suddenly, something occurred to him.

"Aw, shit..."

"What's wrong?"

"Condoms?"

"No."

"Fuck," John muttered.

"Fingers," Sherlock moaned, pressing against John. 

Turning his head, John stuck the fingers of his left hand into his mouth, licking them and getting them nice and wet. Then he reached down, slipping his pinkie into Sherlock's anus.

"Oh, God!"

"Don’t tense up," John advised as he felt Sherlock's anal muscle tighten around his finger. As soon as Sherlock managed to relax enough, John pushed in further.

"More," Sherlock moaned. He had his hands on John's shoulders, rubbing them in the same rhythm John was using on him.

John swiftly switched to his index finger. As soon as he got it far enough in, he crooked it, touching Sherlock's prostate.

"Oh..." Sherlock shuddered.

John laughed. "You like that, don't you?"

"Yes... God... John..."

John stroked Sherlock some more, kissing him. But as much as John was enjoying pleasuring Sherlock, he wanted--needed--something more.

Withdrawing his finger, John pulled Sherlock off the desk. Shoving stacks of books and their discarded clothes aside, John pushed Sherlock unto the floor. He then dropped on top of him with a flurry of kisses, groping him shamelessly.

"Lay on your side," he said. 

As soon as Sherlock did this, John lay inverted to him. Reaching forward, John took Sherlock's cock in his hand and swallowed it down. He moaned when he felt Sherlock's soft lips around his own erection. As they sucked each other off, John noticed that Sherlock was copying John's movements and actions. John wrapped his arm around Sherlock's waist and slid his finger into Sherlock arse again. He worked slowly, skillfully stimulating Sherlock's prostate. Sherlock put his arm around John's waist, but then just rested his hand on one of John's buttocks. 

Finally, Sherlock came in John's mouth. John eagerly swallowed Sherlock's jizz. Sherlock continued giving John head; and as he did, his hand moved down and his long, slender index finger slid into John's arse. John was already on the brink, and when Sherlock's finger hit his prostate, he came.

After a moment, John rolled on to his back. Sherlock sat up. He was working his mouth, and had a puzzled expression.

"Something wrong?"

"I don't particularly care for the taste of semen..."

John smiled. "You don't have to swallow, you know."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Sitting up, John kissed him. Then, going over to his gym bag, he opened it and took out the shirt he'd worn to school. He wiped his fingers on it, then folded it and started dabbing at his sweaty hest. 

Sherlock stood up.

"We can go clean up in my en suite bathroom."

"Oh, okay." John dropped his shirt back in his bag and followed Sherlock. Walking through an inner door, they ended up in a large, austerely furnished bedroom. Unlike the dark colour of Sherlock's library, this room was painted a relaxing light blue. They crossed the room, and went into the bathroom. Like the bedroom, it was large but sparsely furnished.

Sherlock opened the cupboard and got out two large flannels, handing one to John. Walking over to the sink, Sherlock ran the flannel under the tap. At first John thought he was going to wash himself, but then he turned to John with a grin.

Walking over, Sherlock began wiping the sweat off of John's face. Then he moved down to his neck, then his arms and chest.

"You know, John, you have amazingly well-developed musculus biceps brachii and pectoralis major muscles..." He moved the flannel down, to John's stomach. "And your musculus rectus abdominis is impressive, too..."

"Thanks," said John, turning around so Sherlock could wash his back.

"Hmmm, very nice musculus trapezius..." He worked his way down. "And magnificent musculus gluteus maximus."

John laughed. "I must say, you could make learning the muscle groups something to look forward to..."

Sherlock smiled and tossed the wet flannel into the hamper. 

Finally cleaned off, John turned and gave Sherlock a kiss. Then he got his flannel wet and held the flannel out in preparation. 

"So," John asked as he washed Sherlock's face, "Do you want me name chemical compounds or something while I clean you off?"

"No, you don't have to," Sherlock replied, smiling.

John smiled back as he began to clean Sherlock's chest.

"You're really thin... is it weird that I find that kinda hot?"

Sherlock shrugged. "I don't really see what's wrong with it."

"Ah, ok," said John as rubbed down Sherlock's back. In the middle of this, he leaned forward, kissing the boy's neck. He tossed the flannel in the hamper, then stepped forward against Sherlock, putting and arm around him, and gently rubbing his stomach. John sighed happily. "I'm so glad I met you."

"I... I'm glad met you, too."

John laughed lightly, kissing the nape of Sherlock's neck.

After a moment, Sherlock stepped out of John's embrace.

"I'm going into the bedroom."

"I need to take a leak, then I'll be right in."

 

As soon as he finished and washed his hands, John went back into the bedroom. Sherlock was on the bed. He was lying on his side, his arms stretched out in front of him and his eyes unfocused, as if his mind were on another plane. It was on odd sight; John had noticed that even when Sherlock wasn't paying attention in class, he had an intense, focused look. John walked over and lay down.

"Sherlock, are you all right?"

Sherlock closed his eyes; when he opened them again, he was looking at John.

"I like you."

"Yeah, I had figured that one out," said John with a laugh.

Instead of laughing along with him, Sherlock looked offended. John considered what he knew about the boy: While people at school largely avoided him, he seemed okay with it. The boy had never, in the nearly two months John had known him, made any attempt to befriend anyone. Even John himself had only got to know the boy because he'd been willing to make the first move.

"Oh... you liking someone is a big deal, isn’t it?"

"Yes," Sherlock replied. "I don't... really quite understand it."

John smiled. He reached out and gently played with Sherlock's dark, curly fringe. "Sherlock, nobody really understands that stuff... love, friendship... it just kinda... happens."

Sherlock continued to look upset. "It's just..." He shook and head and sighed heavily.

After a moment, John scooted towards Sherlock, kissing him. "You're not used to dealing with things you can’t figure out, huh?"

"No. But... I suppose I'll have to learn to live with, won’t I?"

"Yeah," said John, smiling. He gently ruffled Sherlock's hair, then kissed him.

Moving back, Sherlock reached forward and ran his fingers over John's lips.

"Spend the night," he said.

"I’d love to, but my parents are working late, and I need to go home to look after my sister. In fact..." John looked around for a clock.

"It’s 7:27," Sherlock told him.

"I really need to get going," said John, gently extricating himself from Sherlock’s grasp. Getting up, he headed back to the library. Sherlock got up and followed him.

John found his pants and trousers among the clutter, putting them on as he looked around for his shoes.

"I think one of them ended up behind that stack," Sherlock said, pointing.

"Thanks," said John, moving a few books they’d toppled over and finding his errant trainer.

Meanwhile, Sherlock walked over to the window where they'd discarded their shirts. He picked John's up, holding it for a moment. Then, with a thoughtful look, he held it up to his face, sniffing it.

"It smells like you," he said affectionately.

John smiled. Then he sat down and began tying his trainers. As he did, he looked over and saw that Sherlock was still holding his shirt. 

"Sherlock?"

Wordlessly, Sherlock put on John's shirt. It was a bit large on him, though it was also shorter on his long, thin body than it was on John's stockier frame.

"Sherlock, I'm not sure they'll be too happy with me getting on the bus topless..."

"Ah, yes... here." Sherlock reached down and picked up his own shirt, holding it out to John.

John laughed and took the shirt. He put it on, finding it a bit snug. 

"Not bad," he said.

Sherlock walked up to John and kissed him.

"Want me to walk down to the bus stop with you?"

John looked down. "You should probably put your trousers on, first."

"Yes, I suppose so."

 

They sat down on the bench at the bus stop. They'd been sitting there for a moment when Sherlock took hold of John's hand. John smiled. Then he rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder.

"So..."

"'So'?" Sherlock replied.

"I'd like to see you again."

"We go to the same school, John."

John laughed. "No, I was... see, my mum's got the day off tomorrow, so I could come over. We'd have all day together."

Sherlock made a face. "Well, I had plans to..." he turned and looked at John. He smiled. "Actually, perhaps you'd like to help me with my experiment? It'd be a practical application of what we’re learning."

"That could be fun. I was figuring we should do some studying, anyway."

"All right," said Sherlock.

"Great." Something else occurred to John. "Uh..."

Sherlock looked at him, then sighed. "Look, John, if you've got something to say, just say it."

"I'd like to have sex with you again... only this time, I think I should bring condoms."

"That would be a good idea," said Sherlock, smiling.

"Good."

"How early do you want to come over?"

"I was thinking of coming over after breakfast."

"All right."

 

Finally, John sighted the bus. He stood up, slinging his gym bag over his shoulder. 

"Well, I'm off," he said, "I'll see you in about fifteen hours."

He leaned in and kissed Sherlock. The taller boy kissed back, gently grabbing John's head and intensifying the kiss.

"Sherlock," John panted when he was able to come up for air, "The bus... I gotta go..."

"Right... yes." Sherlock released John and stepped back, letting him get on the bus.

John sat down on the bus, looking out the window as it started off. He saw that Sherlock was still on the bench watching him leave. He had pulled his--or rather, John's--shirt over his nose and mouth, and had the same fond look he'd had when he'd first picked the shirt up. John leaned back in his seat and smiled.

 

The next day was pouring rain, so John brought an umbrella along with him. As the bus drove up to the stop near Sherlock's house, John noticed a large black car on the other side of the street. As soon as he got off the bus, the car made a u-turn and drove up to the stop. The door opened, and Sherlock's head popped out.

"Hello. I figured you wouldn't want to walk in the rain."

"Yeah, thanks!" said John, rushing out from under the bus stop awning, tossing his bag and umbrella into the car, and hopping in.

"Good morning," said Sherlock, kissing him.

"Good morning," said John, kissing Sherlock back, then settling in next to him. 

"You're cold," Sherlock observed. He pressed a button on the door, and John could feel it start to get warmer. Sherlock took John's hands in his own, and moved close, resting his head on top of John's.

 

The car pulled into a large, enclosed garage; John saw a few other cars, including a red sports car which he couldn't really imagine either Sherlock or his brother driving. John had gathered up his things and reached for the door when the driver opened it for him.

"Oh, thanks!"

"You're welcome sir. Shall I take your things?"

"Oh, I got 'em, thanks," John replied.

"Very good, sir,"

"Come on," said Sherlock. 

He led John through a door into the house itself. 

"So, here's what I have planned: We'll do some experiments right off, then have lunch at about noon. After lunch we’ll study for about an hour, then spend the rest of the afternoon having sex."

"Ummm... yeah, that sounds good."

Sherlock turned, looking at John suspiciously. "You hesitated."

John smiled. "Sorry. I was just a bit thrown by your... frankness."

"Ah." 

Sherlock started up the stairs. John followed.

"Would you prefer I be more ambiguous?"

"No, it's fine. It's kind of refreshing, really."

"All right," said Sherlock with a smile.

 

They finally arrived in the hallway where Sherlock's rooms were. Sherlock led them to the second-to-last door. John realised that since the library was the last room, this must be the bedroom. 

"You can put your things there," said Sherlock, indicating a chair near the door.

John set his bag in the chair, and leaned his umbrella against the wall. As he did this, Sherlock went over to his wardrobe. Opening it, he began stripping.

"Uh...?"

"I'm changing into older clothes, so I don’t get these ruined during our experiments. Did you bring some?"

"Oh, yes," said John, opening his bag and getting out an old ratty shirt and some worn, ripped jeans. He changed into them, setting his better clothes next to Sherlock's on the dresser.

"All right, let's go."

"Where are we going?"

"My lab. It's downstairs, near the back of the house."

"Ah, okay."

 

The morning was spent running various experiments; using different metals to colour fire, and creating rock crystals and flash paper. 

At about 11:30, there was a knock on the door. It opened and Mycroft entered.

"Mortimer will be starting on lunch soon. Any special requests?"

"No," said Sherlock, not even looking up from the experiment.

"What about you, John?"

"Uh... no thanks; I sure whatever... uh, whatever Mortimer makes will be fine."

Mycroft nodded. "Where would you like to eat?"

"In the sun room," Sherlock said quickly. 

Mycroft smiled. "I assume you and John would like to eat alone?"

"Yes," Sherlock said, still not looking at his brother. 

Mycroft looked at John.

"Yeah," said John, "That sounds good."

Mycroft nodded. "I'll have Stapleton come and let you know when it's ready."

"How soon will that be?" John asked.

"About half an hour."

"Oh, all right."

"If you need something to tide you over-"

"No, I'm fine, thanks," said John. 

"All right," said Mycroft, leaving.

"That leaves us time for one more experiment," said Sherlock. John cleaned up their previous one while Sherlock gathered the ingredients for the new one.

"What is this one?"

"You'll see," said Sherlock with a mischievous smile. 

John was puzzled; Sherlock had explained the other experiments as he got the materials ready; why was he being secretive about this one? John went with it, though, following Sherlock's directions and trusting him to know what he was doing. Soon, they ended up with a small bucket of thick, sticky, dark red liquid.

"This is..."

"Fake blood," said Sherlock. He put his hands in the bucket, then drew them out. His face changed to a look of horror and confusion. "I... I keep blacking out and waking up like this. I think I may have a problem..."

"Okay, that's... disturbing."

Sherlock grinned gleefully.

John shook his head. But looking at Sherlock's "bloody" hands gave him an idea. He dipped his hands in the bucket, as deep as they would go. He then drew his hands out, holding them up.

"Well, it was touch-and-go for awhile, but the patient's gonna make it."

They both laughed at this.

Sherlock picked up a pencil. Dipping it in the sticky substance, he then slid is across his throat, creating a thin line of the fake blood, some of which oozed down his neck.

"Lovely..."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You've seen photographs with worse things than this. And _real_."

"Still..."

Sherlock smiled.

There was a knock, then Stapleton opened the door. He looked at the two boys with mild amusement.

"Lunch will be ready in ten minutes. It will be waiting for you in the sun room."

"Thank you, Stapleton," said Sherlock dismissively.

Stapleton nodded and left.

"I suppose we should go clean up."

"Yeah," John said. "This stuff is kinda sticky and gross..." 

"Hmm," said Sherlock in agreement, shaking some of it off his hands and back into the bucket.

John started to go over to the sink to rinse off when Sherlock walked up to him.

"This was a lot of fun," he said, resting a hand on John's shoulder as he leaned in to kiss him. When he pulled back, he had an odd smirk on his face.

"What?"

Sherlock pointed to John's left shoulder. "That's quite a wound you've got there."

John looked down, chuckling when he saw that some of the "blood" on Sherlock's hands had stuck to the shoulder of John's smock. Sherlock smiled back, kissing him again.

 

They washed up a bit in the lab, then went to Sherlock's bathroom to take quick showers and change back into their nicer clothes. After that, they headed to lunch.

John looked around as they entered the sun room. It had large windows, and their lunch had been set on a table right next to one of them. As they walked in, John could hear rain on the roof. 

"That's nice," he said sitting down.

"Hmm," said Sherlock indifferently.

John just smiled and started on his lunch.

 

After lunch, they went to Sherlock's study. He'd tidied up a bit, and put another chair at the desk so they could sit together. Since they'd basically studied chemistry all morning, they focused on biology and maths. John was pretty good with biology, but maths was a bit of a struggle for him. Sherlock was a tough tutor; he expected a lot from John, and got impatient with him when he didn't meet those expectations. On the other hand, when John did get something right, Sherlock was effusive with his praise. 

 

"Oh, man," said John, rubbing his face tiredly. "What time is it?" He looked at his watch. "We've been studying for nearly two hours!"

"Have we? I lost track of time..."

John sighed. "I think that's enough for the day."

"All right," Sherlock agreed. He began putting his books away. "So... sex?"

John laughed. "That is what was next on the agenda, isn't it?"

"Yes," said Sherlock, getting up.

John got up, too, and walked up to Sherlock, kissing him. They made out for a few minutes, John playing with Sherlock's hair, and Sherlock sliding his hands under John's shirt to rub his bare back.

"We should go to your room," John said.

"All right," said Sherlock.

 

They re-entered Sherlock's bedroom. As soon as the door was closed, Sherlock pulled John towards the bed, and the fell onto it, kissing and fondling each other. 

"Wait," said John between kisses, "Let me get the lube and condoms..."

"Hmmm... yes," said Sherlock, letting go of him.

John got up and opened his bag, getting out the tube of lube and box of condoms. As he headed over the bed, Sherlock started unbuttoning his shirt.

"Wait," said John, "I want to undress you."

"All right," said Sherlock.

John sat down and finished taking Sherlock's shirt off. He kissed Sherlock's long, pale neck, then his collar bone, down to his nipple. Sherlock fell back on the bed, pulling John with him. He reached down, lifting John's shirt up. John sat up and wiggled out of his shirt, and Sherlock tossed it aside.

Sitting up, John reached down and began undoing Sherlock's trousers. Sherlock lifted his arse up and let John pull them down, then off. Sherlock was still wearing snug white briefs, but before John could get them off, Sherlock grabbed the waist of John's jeans, and began unbuttoning them. He pulled them down to reveal a pair of blue boxers.

Sherlock then lay on his back. After a second, he looked up at John.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"You wanted to undress me."

"Oh, right," said John. 

With that, John took hold of the waistband of Sherlock's pants and pulled them off. He then got up on his knees and started to remove his own underwear.

"Oh," he said, "do you want to do the honours?"

Sherlock smiled. 

"It's fine. I don’t mind just watching."

"Okay."

John stripped off his boxers and tossed them off the bed. Then he lay next to Sherlock and began kissing him. As usual, Sherlock responded very enthusiastically, practically wrapping himself around John as he kissed him deeply.

"John," Sherlock whispered, "I want you inside of me."

John smiled. "All right, I... what are you doing?"

Sherlock had rolled over so his back was to John.

"It's an optimal position for first-time anal sex," Sherlock said.

"OOhh... okay."

Getting the lube and one of the condoms, he lay behind his lover. He rubbed Sherlock's back, slowly down to his arse. Applying a dab of lube to his fingers, he slid his index finger in. Sherlock arched back, pushing John's finger all the way in. He twisted it just a little, causing Sherlock to cry out.

"Uh... good? Bad...?"

"A little of both," Sherlock replied. "Do it again."

John rotated his finger again. Sherlock moaned. John began working his finger back and forth inside Sherlock's anus. 

"Oh, John..."

"Sherlock, I'm going add another finger."

"Okay."

John carefully slipped his middle finger into Sherlock. He then added a third, gently moving and twisting them. He felt Sherlock's arse loosen and relax.

"John," said Sherlock, "I think I'm ready."

"All right."

Pulling his fingers out, John opened the condom and slipped it over his fully-hard cock. Squeezing out a generous amount of lube, he used some to slick up his penis, then took the rest and lubed up Sherlock's arse.

John pulled Sherlock against him, and used his other hand to guide himself in. Sherlock twitched as John's head slipped into him.

"I... I'm sorry, this is just rather new to me."

"I know," said John softly, kissing Sherlock's neck. "It's okay."

Slowly, gently, John worked his way into Sherlock. 

"Hmmm, this is nice," John sighed as he slid in to the base.

"Yes," Sherlock moaned back.

Slowly, John began moving in and out. As he did, Sherlock began stroking himself. Reaching around, John entwined his fingers with Sherlock's, and they jerked him off together. It didn't take long until Sherlock came, cum spurting across his sheet. 

Putting his hand back on Sherlock's hip, John began thrusting faster and faster. Sherlock moaned, grabbing at the bedding and occasionally pulling away. John would wait a second, then pull him closer again, sliding back in.

"Oh, God... John..."

"Almost there..." John moaned.

After few more thrusts, John finally came, letting out a long, deep moan of pleasure. He slid his arm around Sherlock, kissing the nape of his neck.

"Sherlock... you okay?"

"Yeah," Sherlock sighed. He caressed John's finger with his own.

Moving back, John pulled out and took off the condom. 

"Uh... where's the bin?"

"Bathroom," said Sherlock.

John disposed of the condom, then came back into the bedroom. Sherlock was lying in bed, and smiled as John walked back over to him. He climbed into bed behind Sherlock. The other boy rolled over to face him.

"Thank you, John."

"Uh... you don't have to thank me, Sherlock. I mean, this was for both of us."

"Yes, I suppose so." Sliding closer, Sherlock kissed John. "So... maybe you should thank me, too."

John laughed. "Thanks, Sherlock."

 

Sherlock and John lay cuddling in bed, occasionally kissing lazily.

"This has been a great day, Sherlock," said John.

"It has," the other boy agreed. "Are you planning to come back tomorrow?"

"I can't," said John, "Sunday is the only day both my folks have off, so we have a family day."

"Oh," said Sherlock.

John winced. "I'm sorry, I should have told you."

Sherlock shook his head. "It’s fine."

"I should probably leave about the time I left yesterday."

"All right," Sherlock replied. He leaned up on one elbow. "We should work on our biology some more."

John grinned. Getting up on his elbow as well, he kissed Sherlock. 

"I'd love to work on your biology..."

Sherlock gave John a look. "John."

John giggled and sat up. "Yeah, all right."

 

Seeing Sherlock at school on Monday was... odd. It wasn't as if John hadn’t slept with classmates before, but this was different. Everything involving Sherlock was different, really. Seeing the boy take his usual spot in the back, John smiled. He sat down in the seat next to him.

"Hello there."

Sherlock smiled. "Good morning."

"Good morning."

"Do you mind if I sit next to you?"

"Not at all; you can sit where you like." 

After a moment's consideration, Sherlock said, "Oh, I see... you want to sit close to me because you like me."

"Yeah."

"All right," said Sherlock. "I suppose I'll be rejoining you and Julia in Chemistry?"

"I hope so. If you want to, of course."

Sherlock smiled. "I do."

 

John met Sherlock in the dining hall. Sherlock headed over to their usual table. John started to follow, then stopped short.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes?"

"Why don’t we go and sit with them?" John nodded at the table where Greg and Mike were sitting, waiting for the others they usually sat with.

"Why?"

"They're my friends," said John. "And... maybe you all can get along?"

Sherlock seemed to consider this. "I suppose I could try it for a day..."

"Thanks," said John, heading over.

"Hey, John," said Mike.

"Hey," John answered back. "Can we sit here?"

"Uh, sure..."

"Thanks!"

"So, how was your weekend?" Greg asked.

"It was fun," said John.

"We had sex," Sherlock added.

"Sherlock!"

"What?"

"Oh," said Julia, "so that's why you turned me down. Why didn't you just tell me you were gay?"

Sherlock considered this for a moment. "I didn't know it when you asked."

"You... didn't know you were gay?"

Sherlock shrugged. "John is the first person I've ever been attracted to."

"OOooh..."

"You're a bit of a late bloomer, huh?" asked Greg.

"I suppose so."

"I think it's sweet," said Sally. "You make a cute couple."

Greg smirked. "A cute couple of what?"

John smiled; it was good to see Sherlock interacting with his friends. He knew it was possible this was a one-off event, but he'd take what he could get.

 

As before, they went outside after lunch.

"There," said Sherlock as he lit a cigarette, "I talked to your friends. Naturally it was about sex. Maybe next time I'll expand to their other favourite topic."

"So... there _will_ be a next time?"

Sherlock smiled. "Yes, I guess so."

 

It got colder as the week wore on, so instead of going outside after lunch, Sherlock and John started going to the library to study, talk, or make out; or some combination of the three. On Thursday when they came in and sat down, Sherlock gave John a quick once over.

"And you're so happy because...?"

"My mum doesn't work tomorrow," said John, smiling.

"You can spend the night," Sherlock deduced.

"If you want me to," said John.

"Of course I do," said Sherlock, smiling back. He kissed John, who kissed back. Pulling their chairs closer together, they continued kissing for awhile. 

The librarian, Mrs. Norton, walked up, clearing her throat. "Keep it clean, gentlemen."

"Yes, ma'am," said John while Sherlock just rolled his eyes.

"We should be heading to Chemistry anyway," said Sherlock, getting up.

 

After rugby on Friday, John headed to the bus stop. He had only waited a few minutes when a familiar black car rolled up. He got in.

"Hello, there," he said, kissing Sherlock.

"I figured we could drive over to your house together to pick your stuff up," Sherlock explained. "It'll save you the bus fare."

"It’s a long way from your house," said John.

Sherlock shrugged. "We're not in any hurry. Besides, it means you and me spending more time together. Isn’t that a good thing?"

John smiled. "Yeah, it is."

Half an hour later, they arrived at John's house. Sherlock went into the house with John, looking around as John went to get his things.

John came back into the living room with his bag. 

"Having fun?"

Sherlock turned and smiled. "Indeed. This is actually quite a nice place."

"Thanks, I guess... shall we go?"

"Sure."

 

As John was putting his things in Sherlock's bedroom, he asked the other boy, "Do you have any specific schedule planned for us?"

"Aside from studying, sex, and... well, basics like eating and sleeping, not really. I figured we could play it by ear."

"Works for me," said John, walking over and kissing Sherlock.

 

They studied until dinner was ready. Given the cold weather, they ate in a small dining room on the first floor instead of the sun room.

"So," said John as he pushed aside his plate. "Now what?"

"We should go back to my rooms. We can decide from there."

"All right."

 

They went to Sherlock's room. John took a quick trip to the bathroom, and when he came out, he saw Sherlock sitting on his bed. He came over and sat down. 

"Hey," he said.

"John," said Sherlock, giving John an earnest look. "I want to show you something."

"Okay."

John followed Sherlock across the room, to a door John had noticed earlier. Sherlock opened it and walked in, indicating for John to follow.

John walked into a small room. It was painted dark like the study, though the walls were mostly covered with paper; articles, press clippings, and some of Sherlock's own notes. All of them pertained to crimes, mostly old ones, though there were a few recent ones scattered here and there. 

John also noted that, unlike Sherlock's other rooms, this room had no door to the hall; the only way into here was through Sherlock's bedroom. There was also no window.

Sherlock sat down on a long day bed. The only other piece of furniture was a chest with a cushion on it. Curious, John leaned down to open it. Sherlock practically jumped up, reaching out.

"Don't... don’t do that."

John looked at the other boy with surprise. "Why...?"

"Just... it's best if you don't look in there."

John gave Sherlock a puzzled look. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Oh, for Pete's sake, it's not like I've got a dead body in there, John, I just... please don't."

"Okay, okay," said John. He walked over and sat next to Sherlock, giving him a kiss. 

"So... what is this?" he asked looking around the room.

"It's... my private room. No one's allowed in here except for me. Not even Mycroft comes in here."

John looked around at the small, dark, private space. He understood what it meant to Sherlock, bringing him in here, and sharing it with him, even if he wasn't willing to share _everything_.

John turned and smiled. "Thank you," he said softly, kissing him again.

 

Not surprisingly, they ended up in bed; exploring, kissing, licking, fucking. It wasn't long until they could do little more than lay together, tired, sweaty, and happy.

 

John woke up; he was confused until he remembered where he was. Looking around, he noticed Sherlock was not only not in bed with him, but wasn't even in the room. He got up, put on his pyjama bottoms, then headed over to the study. 

"Sherlock? Are you in there?"

"Come in," said the familiar voice. 

John entered the room, shivering as he did. Sherlock was sitting by the open window, smoking. He was wearing a fluffy robe and thick pyjama trousers, but was barefoot. John walked over to him.

"Hey... you okay?"

"I'm fine," Sherlock replied. "Just smoking. Opening the bedroom window would have made it cold in there, and I didn't want to wake you." 

"Ah, I see. Thanks." 

John put his arms around Sherlock's waist and rested his head on his shoulder. "Why don’t you come back to bed?"

"When I'm done with this cigarette."

"Okay," said John. He kissed Sherlock on the cheek and headed back to the bedroom. 

 

After a few minutes, Sherlock came back into the bedroom. He got undressed, tossing his clothes onto a chair (John laughed as the robe slid off unto the floor), then got into bed. He cuddled up to John, curling his cold hands against John's chest and sticking his feet near John's. John let out a yelp, pulling his feet away.

"Sorry."

"No, it's okay," said John. "You just surprised me."

With that, he stretched his legs forward, finding Sherlock's chilly feet and gently rubbing them between his own. Sherlock smiled and relaxed, letting John warm him up.

They lay for a moment, enjoying each other's warmth. Sherlock looked thoughtful, but then, he usually looked like that. However, after a few minutes, he spoke up.

"John?"

"Yeah?"

"Are we friends?"

John gave a laugh, but said, "Yeah, of course. Why do you ask?" 

"I've never had a friend." He stated it calmly, but John could hear a note of sadness in his voice.

"Oh, Sherlock..."

John ran lightly-tanned fingers over Sherlock's pale shoulder.

"You know," Sherlock said after a moment, "The whole point of me going to school was to 'socialize' and make friends... I guess it worked."

John smiled and put his arms around his friend and lover. "Yeah, it did."


End file.
